Randy spoke to her. He gave her the instructions he had given Jake, thenabruptly hung up. The terrified woman ran out of the booth and down the street...nto the building. But with her heels on, she was no match for the large crowdof black youths, some only fifteen or sixteen, who followed her close behind. They all crowded into the hallway while Sheila opened the blue bag and calledthe phone number written on the paper. Randy answered the phone and told hershe was to do exactly as Jake commanded. Thus, for my own nefarious purposes, auto-fession will have to do. If you are indeed still reading, then you must be a part of that third, dedicated group of people. Most of the oppressors and narcissists Ive met arent strong readers. So why did I feel compelled to tell my story, you may ask? Well, why does anyone decide to write a journal, short story, or novel&hellip, fictional or otherwise? I simply had the urge to tell my tale, that is all. To some, it may come off as interesting. Others. More

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